


Muse

by whetherwoman



Category: Wanted A Gentleman - K. J. Charles
Genre: Blow Jobs, M/M, writers are the worst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-24
Updated: 2019-03-24
Packaged: 2019-11-29 06:25:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18219395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whetherwoman/pseuds/whetherwoman
Summary: Prompt:Theo needs Martin's help to figure out if certain activities in "Jonathan" are physiologically possible.





	Muse

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by [whetherwoman](https://archiveofourown.org/users/whetherwoman/pseuds/whetherwoman) in the [JonathanDrabbles](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/JonathanDrabbles) collection. 



“Martin!”

Martin started up from the table. He had been going over his books in the kitchen while Theo wrote in the study. Theo was a very active writer, so for the sake of both safety and sanity Martin worked in a different room from the pacing, fidgeting, toe-tapping, swearing, and unfinished sentences. But that had been a note of real urgency in Theo’s voice. He stepped quickly into the study.

“Theo, are you—” His voice died in his throat. Theo was halfway out of his trousers, ungracefully hopping on one foot to get his leg out his drawers.

“Martin! Good, just—stand right here—” Theo shook the trousers off and grabbed Martin by the hip to move him to one side of a low couch. Martin let him, bemused.

Theo gave him a quick smile, then deftly opened the front of Martin’s pants. Martin started to splutter, but before he could get more than a word out Theo had flopped onto the couch, rolled onto his back, and wriggled until his head was just in front of where Martin was standing. 

He grinned up at Martin, upside-down, and Martin gulped as his prick began to lengthen. Martin didn’t know what had prompted this, but was beginning to get an idea of what was about to happen.

Still, he was not prepared for Theo to reach up, pull his prick out, and swallow Martin to the root.

“Theo—!” Martin almost shouted. His head was spinning. He could feel himself hardening almost painfully fast in Theo’s mouth. The peculiar position meant he couldn’t see Theo’s face, but watching the white column of his throat work was shockingly erotic.

And that was before Theo reached down with his other hand, gave his own prick a perfunctory stroke, then reached below it and put his fingers—

Martin choked on nothing.

And then Theo let him slide free with a wet pop, swung himself upright and stood. “Thanks,” he said, and gave Martin a quick kiss. Then he sat back down at the desk, still bare-arsed, and started scribbling.

Martin gaped at him.

“Close the door on your way out,” Theo said, not looking up.

Martin stumbled to the kitchen, only remembering to close up his trousers again as he fell back into his seat. He stared blankly at the wall.

Good god, some days there was nothing worse than living with a writer.


End file.
